"The Maypole..." she muttered to herself as Pace played the clip at double speed. It was funny every time.

Annie had never been there before, but...she had an idea.

She turned to Jewel.

"Do you know if they have a ladies' night?"

Jewel gave her that duh look that made Annie feel old. "Yeah. Thursdays I think. So today. Have you been crying?"

"Shush, Jewel. Are you going to have a bachelorette party?" Esther smiled in the most unnerving way.

"No, I was just wondering."

"Bummer."

But she was going to head out for more ladies only entertainment. She did need to know for sure. Was it Oksana she craved or women in general? If her relationship with Jeff had even the slightest chance of being in danger, she needed to figure that out and fast. Throwing herself into a sea of women seemed like the best place to start. Or the worst place ever for Annie to be when she was emotional and vulnerable. Either way, she needed to put herself out there while she had the chance. And if that didn't work, if Oksana was truly the thing, the ugly man trainer idea was still on the table.

"Who do I have to fellate to get another day?" Stewart asked. Oksana watched her client mop the sweat off his face. He was more than ready to pump up his sessions, but she'd been waiting for Stewart to make that decision for himself. That was their deal; he'd bust his ass if Oksana wasn't a complete bitch during their hour together. They'd expanded his comfort zones together. He worked like crazy, shed a ton of weight, safely, and slowly, Stewart became the first client Oksana considered a friend.

Oksana smiled and whacked him gently on the leg. "I think you might enjoy your sucking time with Paulo a little bit more than with me."

"Mmhm, you know that's right. I'm still too big boned for him, but just give me one chance." Oksana's laugh barely covered her grimace as Stewart licked his lips. Stewart was awesome, but the thought of him on his knees-gross.

She kept her bone jokes to herself and helped Stewart up off the mats.

"I'm headed back there now. What's your best day?" Oksana asked. She rocked on her heels a little, thoughts of Stewart porn overshadowed by how proud she was of him. Sure, vanity was at play, but Stewart was genuinely trying to change his life and his health for the better.

And not trying to fuck you-again. Or making you crazy with his bottomless blue eyes. Or kissing you right out in the open. And you definitely wouldn't be worrying about if he is going to text you again tonight while you lie awake in bed thinking about those bottomless blue eyes.

Great. Oksana rolled her eyes at herself. Made it a whole twenty minutes not thinking about Annie. Oh, God, please ask for Saturday morning. Please. I'll bounce Annie in a heartbeat if it'll help me shake these fucking meat sweats she's giving me.

"Let's do-what's that face, chickie?"

"What face?" Oksana snapped her spine straight and frowned down at Stewart.

"You have a time in mind?"

"No. No. What's good for you?"

"Let's do Saturday..." Oh God, yes! "Let's do Saturday afternoon. Noon work?"

Three months ago, the answer would have been no, but she'd taken on Saturday mornings for Annie. Damn it. "Yeah. Noon is perfect."

Stewart smiled wide, showing off a massively chipped tooth. He had a few million dollars to fix it, but he never had. He had his reasons, which Oksana totally understood and respected. That didn't stop Oksana from staring at it constantly, which she knew was rude, but the imperfection comforted her for some reason.

"No, noon is good." It would put her home by the time Kat finally decided to roll out of bed, and they could still have the rest of the day together. Saturday morning would have been better. Stupid Annie.

"Good. I'll see you then. And stop scowling," Stewart said, tapping the corner of his eye. "You'll line."

Paulo was behind his desk, pretending to work. He didn't keep the books, and outside of the seasonal classes, the four trainers on staff arranged their own schedules with their clients. Odds were he was cruising the Internet or playing poker. Oksana lingered in the doorway until he looked up from his monitor.

"Come in. I hate when you do that," he said, letting his Italian accent slip a little. It was always strongest during business hours.

"Sorry." Oksana collapsed on his couch and stretched her legs out in front of her. It always took a little while to get out of stand and encourage mode. She watched the subtle light changes from the monitor dance across Paulo's bronze face for a few moments, and then she stopped being a punk.

"I slept with Annie Collins."

Paulo froze, but he didn't turn. "Will she be a problem?"

For me, yes. For the gym... "No." Oksana thought of that final text. It hurt like hell, but Annie had gotten the point, and as far as Oksana knew, they were on for Saturday. Annie's wedding was still on.

"Good." Paulo relaxed and spun his chair in Oksana's direction, his running shorts bunching a bit over his muscular thighs.

Paul Taylor was a dark-haired, corn-fed, farm boy from Missouri. After a career in acting didn't pan out and he realized fucking other men was much better when it wasn't in exchange for bit parts, he took on a new persona: Paulo, Italian fitness master.

Oksana, one other trainer, and Paul's partner, Bettino, an authentic Italian, were the only ones who knew the truth.

When he spoke again, Paulo was gone. "Was she any good?" he asked with a glint in his eye. Oksana liked it when he let his Midwest out. He seemed more honest in their conversations then and she felt less like the only foreigner in the room.

"It was fucking amazing."

"How'd that happen anyhow? Her wedding's what, two months out?"

"A little more. She..." Oksana hesitated before she told the whole truth. "She kissed me last night in the parking lot."

"Okay that kind of shit can't happen."

"I know. I know!" Oksana groaned, rubbing her face. "I told her last night. No more of, I don't know, whatever it was. It's over."

"Good. I hate straight people." Paul rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Well, at least you got some. It's been a while."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Paul replied, flashing a handsome grin. "How about a new victim?"

"Stewart asked for Saturday, noon," she told him before he committed her elsewhere.

Paul grabbed a pen and scribbled that down. "Won't be a problem. I got a call from Overhouse this morning. They are casting Angels of the Prairie Run."

Oksana had heard a while ago that the film adaptation of the New York Times bestselling novel had started pre-production. She'd actually read the book. The historical drama was a quick break from the biographies she'd been gobbling up in her free time. The book was pretty good. Hopefully, the movie would be good too.

"When they're ready, they want us to train their leads. It may be nothing major, but..."

"I know. They have to be a believable nineteenth century skinny, not runway skinny."

Paul tapped his nose. "Right on the head, sweetie. What do you say?"

All the clients of Elite Fitness were high-end, but the other trainers had issues getting starstruck. Oksana would take a fork to the eye before she got in bed with an actor. Plus, she felt like she owed Paul after the Collins affair.

"I'm in." A new client was always a fresh start, exactly what she needed.

"It might be early mornings," Paul said. "Very early, but I'll give you your afternoons for the contract. I'll have Martin handle the Pilates class."

"Deal."

"It might be a while or it might be soon, but they're willing to pay for you."

"Oh? So you didn't want me?"

"I always want you, but you were requested by name." Not unheard of, but...

"Who's the reference?"

Paul pretended to search for the info in his day planner. Oksana humored his silliness.

"A Miss Ronnie Ramirez."

Oksana's laugh echoed through the office. "That bitch!"

Sixty-five minutes on the treadmill, a hundred or so crunches and push-ups, and eight not-so-innocent peeks at her cell phone later, Oksana wandered into the big house in search of food.

"Come here," Baba Inna grumbled in her native tongue. The old woman knew how to throw her voice. Oksana had no clue how, some elder Russian proverb about being invisible in the woods and heard across the fields, but her voice still echoed down the main hall, just daring Oksana to take her time. She was still irritated with Oksana's cell phone antics.

She cursed herself for letting the front door slam and Oksana walked into the kitchen to find Kat cleaning her plate into Vasily's dish. He came for a sniff then cleaned the rest off with his tongue.

"You walk him tonight," Baba told Kat as she lit another cigarette.

"Baba, no," Kat whined, slouching dramatically against the corner.

"I'll do it," Oksana offered. The dog was the size of a small truck and protective of Kat. She was perfectly safe walking him at night, but Oksana wanted to get away from Baba's mood as soon as possible.

"No, it's her turn. She wanted a puppy. The puppy became a dog and now she walks the dog," Baba said.

Kat switched to English, which she only did to piss off their grandmother.

"I hate this." She dropped her plate in the sink and stormed out of the room. "He takes the biggest shits." She had a point.

Oksana watched the dog enjoy his dinner of scraps, pretending she didn't feel her grandmother's glare drilling a hole in the side of her head. Baba Inna ashed her cigarette in the sink and walked to the stove. Oksana finally sat at the table.

Baba Inna brought her a plate piled high with steak, potatoes, and onions. She often joked that Oksana's grandfather had passed on his appetite, his Viking blood, and his height to both his grandchildren, but the truth was, being a trainer was as active a career as most people thought. In her down time, Oksana had to keep herself in shape. If she didn't eat like a trucker, she'd be fabulously underweight and undesirable as a trainer. She had to be slim but healthy, which meant eating mountains of Baba's starches and proteins and fats. Traditional Russian cuisine was not for the weak, and certainly wasn't a diet she'd recommend to a client, but Oksana loved it. As she stuffed her mouth, Baba grabbed her phone off the table.

Fear was quickly replaced with relief as she remembered the final texts her grandmother would read. She replaced the phone next to Oksana's elbow then just stood there.

"Who is she?" Baba Inna asked after an uncomfortably long silence.

Oksana swallowed, then filled her fork again. "A client."

"You love her."

"No." Oksana took another bite and considered how to phrase more of the truth. Baba was already irritated. Her tempers were subtle, but the fact that they were having this conversation at all proved that Baba had noticed Oksana's recent behavior and she wasn't impressed. The truth didn't necessarily need details though.

"She's engaged. I made a mistake."

"There is no mistake. You love her. Your eyes are terrible liars."

Oksana's throat wanted to close. The last time they'd talked like this, it was about Vivian. Baba told Oksana not to move in with her. They hadn't known each other long enough. Oksana insisted it was the right step in their relationship, but in the end it turned out Oksana didn't know Vivian at all.

This time Oksana knew her side of the argument was for the best.

"I like her," she said. "But I don't love her. It was a mistake and it's over."

Baba let her clean her plate in silence, but when Oksana's cell vibrated on the table, Baba snatched it away again. The third night in a row she'd brought her phone up for dinner. She really wasn't being slick, and worse yet, of all the people who could have texted her, she prayed it was Annie coming around for another chance. At what, she didn't know, and she knew she shouldn't think about.

Once she rinsed her dishes, Baba handed back her phone. "Awful, awful liar. Call Ronnie." Baba patted her gently on the butt and sent her on her way.

"You love me, yes?" Ronnie cackled over the phone.

Oksana tossed the keys to the little house into the bowl by the TV and turned on the light. She dropped her bag on the floor and started to undress. Her nipples needed some air and some gentle, loving attention. She ignored the idea of Annie doling out that attention and the rush of heat and moisture between her legs.

"No. Miss Ronnie Ramirez, you dick. What did you do?"

"I got you another A-list client. That's what I did. That's seven this year. You should buy me something," Ronnie said.

"Three, and you have plenty of money, dick." Oksana smiled as she kicked off her shoes.

She and Ronnie had a wonderful love/hate relationship. Out-siders thought they genuinely didn't like each other, but that was just how they connected. Ronnie didn't give you a hard time if she didn't love you, and Oksana was grateful for every moment of the friendship she'd shared with Ronnie and her girlfriend Noelle. They both stuck with Oksana through all the bullshit with Vivian, and even though Ronnie was completely to blame for Kat's green hair and piercings, she had been there to help Oksana pick up all of her pieces.

After she was over this initial round of sulking, she could definitely use some quality time with them both. After she was done sulking and masturbating. Stupid Annie.

"Plus, we don't know if the lucky winner will be A-list. Could be a nobody on the rise," Oksana said before she pulled off her shirt. She missed a little of what Ronnie said under the muffle of sweat-dampened cotton.

"-o. I'm thinking totally crazy, method A-lister. You're in for some fun, and since you really do owe me, we're going out tonight."

"Um, no."

"Uh, yes. Noelle locked herself in her studio. I'm lonely and useless. You need to keep me company," she said dryly. Ronnie was a successful hair stylist and bitch to boot who desperately loved Noelle. She knew that Noelle needed her space to focus on her paintings, though it didn't stop Ronnie from pouting when she wasn't around.

Oksana groaned. She wanted to sleep. Actually, she wanted to mope and stare at her phone. She wanted Annie to crack. That was the truth. She wanted Annie to call or text or something, and she wanted to be available for the possible moment of weakness.

Exactly why you should go! Finally, a part of her brain was making sense. She rubbed her nipple through her sports bra then grabbed a towel.